


Oh, My Days

by probablyharryhart



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, it's not that harry is bad with kids it's just that he isn't good with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablyharryhart/pseuds/probablyharryhart
Summary: Due to scheduling errors, Harry Hart ends up picking Daisy Baker up from school.  Mostly domestic Hartwin but also Eggsy isn't there for most of it.





	Oh, My Days

“Harry, can you send someone round to pick my sister up from school?”

Harry glances down at his wrist watch. It must be nearly 11pm in Tokyo where Eggsy is away on a mission. He should be in a fashion gala tracking their target throughout the event. Not a single movement or interaction should go unrecorded.

“Galahad, how are you making this call?” he can only hope his use of the Kingsman codename will remind Eggsy of his responsibilities.

“Stepped into a cupboard. It’s only that my mum can’t make it off work and someone needs to be there to pick up Daisy, and I left so quick that mum doesn’t know I’ve gone.”

Harry sighs. He knows better than to try to redirect Eggsy when he’s worried about his family. How he manages to be present in his missions as well as worry about other people’s schedules was entirely beyond Harry. “I’ll make sure someone is there, Eggsy. Now, please, focus on your objectives.”

“Thanks, Harry.” There’s a rueful smile audible in his voice before the line disconnects, and Harry thinks Eggsy knows that he is neglecting his work. He pulls open a filing cabinet behind his desk that contains all the personal files of the Kingsman agents. After a lot of debate - a  _ lot  _ of debate - Harry convinced Merlin to thoroughly wipe, encrypt, and destroy as many sensitive personal documents about the agents as possible. After Valentine got so far infiltrated into Kingsman, Harry was afraid of where else they may be vulnerable. Merlin had called him daft, Eggsy had called him old. Even Harry admitted it was a little paranoid.

It did, however, have the fortunate effect of making the files on Eggsy’s family easily accessible in that moment. Harry finds Daisy’s school records quickly, all contained within only a few small sheafs of paper. It contains her whole academic history - teachers, school addresses, schedules, and grades - and follows the few years she had been in school.

Harry sets up a quick “out of office” auto reply email before standing up from his desk and leaving the tailor shop.

\---

Harry bounds out of the taxi, watching as it pulls away from the curb. He looks both ways and crosses the street, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around the handle of his umbrella. He gives a half wave and a nod to the car that slows for him to cross and enters the gates of the school.

There are a few children in the front office waiting for their late parents. He walks to the front counter where a rather displeased looking middle aged woman is speaking on the phone. It sounds like a parent, irate that the school would have the gall to contact them regarding their unattended and neglected child. She pulls the handset from her face, hand covering the receiver. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up Daisy Baker. I’m a colleague and family friend of Gary Unwin, her brother. Both he and Michelle are unavailable to pick her up today.”

She looks skeptical but pushes a clipboard towards him. Clip art clocks and school buses smile up from the black and white copy. “Sign here,” she says, then speaks louder. “Daisy, your pickup is here.”

Daisy gets up, pushing a small children’s book back into her over-sized backpack and comes to stand beside Harry, looking up at him curiously. Her blonde hair and wide-eyed expression that looks to Harry as if she is absorbing every detail of the world around her is reminiscent of Eggsy’s when he had been about her age. Harry half-smiles, unsure how to greet the child he had never formally met. He signs her out, flourishing his name just enough to render it entirely illegible. The woman takes back the clipboard and Daisy slips her hand into Harry’s as they leave the office.

Harry holds the small hand in his, aware that it is a bit sticky and definitely dirty, and hopes that perhaps it is juice or markers and not anything more offensive.

“You’re late,” Daisy says. Harry smiles at her unmetered Cockney. Definitely Eggsy’s blood. “Where’s Eggsy?”

“Work has kept him and your mum, I’m afraid,” Harry answers. “He asked me to look after you this afternoon.”

“What’s your name?”

“Harry Hart. I work with your brother.”

“You sound funny. Are you posh?”

“I don’t know about ‘posh’.... Proper, perhaps.”

“You sound like the Queen,” Daisy says, as if that decides whether Harry is guilty of being posh or not. In his spare hand, Harry sends a text to the number he found for Michelle to say that he had picked up Daisy along with his address to collect her that evening. “Are you royalty?”

“No, I am not,” Harry answers, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He shifted his grip on his umbrella.

“You sound like you could be a prince,” Daisy continues on. “They all sound like you in the movies. Eggsy says I could be a princess if I want to be, because I can be anything I want when I grow up, but mum says you have to be born a princess to be a princess.”

“I rather think both your brother and mother are correct,” Harry says. “One must be born a princess, but anyone can make others believe she is a princess.”

“I want to be a princess,” Daisy declares. Harry smiles. Her scuffed sneakers, untucked shirt, and markers on her face and hands said otherwise. “Can you teach me to be a princess?”

“We’ll have to see,” Harry says. “Princesses must finish their homework first.”

Daisy lets go of his hand, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harry consciously loosens his tense arms and awkwardly pats the girl’s shoulder. She lets go, grabbing his hand again and marching forward. Harry follows along, slowly beginning to relax into the effortless way Daisy trusted him.

\---

Harry hangs Daisy’s school things on the coat rack beside his own, neatly lining up her shoes with a nudge of his toe. In the kitchen, the sound of pencils and crayons rolling on a table top are followed by the sound of workbook pages flipping. Harry enters the kitchen to see Daisy tucked up into a chair, perched on her knees, and sprawled across the table top. He picks up a yellow crayon from the floor and places it with the others on the table.

He pours a glass of milk, setting it on the table beside Daisy along with a few iced tea biscuits - the kind Eggsy prefers. The girl accepts them wordlessly, spreading crumbs on the table top and wiping milk off her upper lip with the back of her hand. He takes a seat, holding a mission report dossier in his hand and distractedly peering at the workbook.

Daisy focuses intently on coloring in the five orange circles. She works through the workbook page quickly, then looks up at Harry. He starts. “Have you finished?”

“No, I have to read now,” Daisy answers. She slides the children’s book across the table towards her.

“Okay,” Harry says, returning to his dossier.

“Eggsy always sits on the sofa with me, Mr. Harry.”

He looks up at the girl, standing next to his chair with the book in hand. Children had never been his strong suit - he was an only child with no young relatives, and of course never had children of his own. So far his estimation was that they are higher maintenance than dogs.

“Okay,” he repeats, leaving the dossier behind and following Daisy into the sitting room. He sits on one side of the sofa and is surprised when Daisy crawls up beside him, tucking her feet under herself. He holds both hands in his lap.

Daisy cracks open the book and brushes her hand along the pages, turning them roughly until she comes to the first page. With the book fully opened, one page was covered in classic-looking watercolor illustrations, and the other was mostly blank save for the clearly printed text of the story. Dragging a finger under the words, Daisy starts to read.

The story is about a small mouse in a mouse family who loves dancing so very much that she causes quite a bit of trouble. Harry is preoccupied by the depictions of mouse anatomy in the illustrations, and wondering precisely what the skeletal or muscular structure the artist presumed mice to have. Of course, the movements of human ballerinas did not make sense to Harry either. 

Daisy stumbles for a moment, trying to sound and the word a few times. “I need help.” She stays, pointing at the tricky word.

“Scolding.“

“Scolding,“ Daisy repeats the word, connecting the sounds to the letters on the page. She nods to herself before continuing on with the book, sometimes pausing to run her hands over the illustrations.

As she finished the book, she closes it and lays it in her lap. “Mr. Harry, is it true that if you work very hard you can be a ballerina?”

“You can be anything you want if you work very hard,” Harry answers, not sure its the right thing to say. He knows too well what factors can hold a person back in life, and exactly which ones may hold Daisy back, as well. But how do you explain that to a child?

“I should like to be a ballerina,” she says, pushing her blonde curls from her face. They fall right back in place. “A ballerina princess.”

“Then you shall be,” Harry answers, and the girl beams up at him. He waits for her to mention princess lessons, but the moment seems to have passed earlier. Too many thoughts about ballerinas have happened since then. “Is that all your homework?”

She nods. He has no idea how to verify whether that is truly the case or not, so he takes the girl at her word. He glances at the time. “When does your mother usually make you dinner?” he asks.

“Five o’clock sharp, she says,” Daisy replies. “But sometimes it’s six, or when Eggsy gets home. Then I have to be in bed by 9 when it’s school, but ten when it’s Saturday.”

“I have a bit of work I need to do before dinner, what would you like to do while you wait?”

“Hmmm….” Daisy mimes deep thought. “Can I watch the telly?”

“Yes, you may,” Harry answers, standing and retrieving the remote control from the TV stand. “Nothing your mother would be upset with me for.”

She nods. Harry steps out as she settles in with the remote, ably flicking through channels. The glimpses of sounds from the TV follow him into the kitchen where he collects the nearly finished glass of milk and crumbly biscuits plate. He rolls his sleeves and rinses the dishes methodically and sets them aside in the drying rack to be properly washed later. He dries his hands and checks his messages.

_ On plane home. Mission successful. Told mum I’ll pick up Daisy on my way in. All well? _

_ Very good. What does she eat for dinner? _

_ Try grilled cheese and chips or crisps. Nothing fancy. Did she do her reading? _

_ Yes. I very much enjoyed being audience to Angelina the mouse ballerina. _

_ Sorry. I owe you. _

_ Don’t be ridiculous. I was being genuine. She’s a good kid. Reminds me of you when I first met you. _

When Eggsy doesn’t reply, Harry writes again.

_ She’s precocious. Her marks at school are high, but her behavior comments aren’t always good. A young girl with potential. I might recommend a dance school. Ballet may give her discipline, and she certainly seems interested. We can talk when you get in. _

Harry collects his report dossier and moves into the sitting room, taking a seat in the armchair. Daisy had found the first Harry Potter film to watch, and is sitting transfixed and in awe of the magical world on the screen.

Eggsy was much the same way, Harry knows. Willing to latch onto any dream and capable of putting in the hard work to achieve it. But Eggsy was never supported in those dreams. Gymnastics dropped out, same with school, and the Marines. He could have been successful in any number of things. In Daisy, Harry can see the same potential. Ambition and drive meeting together to push her towards success and achievement. Whether it be princess lessons, ballot, or her reading homework, Harry would be damned before he saw her light fade out as Eggsy’s did.

He turns the pages in the dossier, reading about the very beginnings of an investigation into ivory smuggling. It was all early days, so there wasn’t much detail or information to read at all. He sighs, flipping through the pages momentarily. It seems like the entire twelve page report was written up to say “there’s illicit ivory trade and that’s bad”.

He makes a note in the margin to ask Merlin to schedule all the agents for a business writing seminar as soon as possible.

His phone screen lights up and he glances at a message from Eggsy.

_ I owe you. _

He disagrees. Rather, he’d argue that Michelle owed him. After all, he was responsible for the gainful employment of Lee as well as Eggsy. And beyond that, she owed Eggsy. If she was less reliant on her adult son to essentially co-parent his younger sister, then there would be contingencies in place for school pick up that did not involve the very busy and arguably dangerous-to-be-around head of a secret spy organization. Harry had important things to do today aside from babysitting. But if he had not stepped in, Eggsy would not have been able to focus on the Tokyo assignment, which was monumentally more important than the flimsy report he was currently reading. And Eggsy dead, or worse, failing missions objectives, wasn’t good for Kingsman.

Harry reaches the end of the report and checks the time. Daisy is mouthing the words of a levitation spell and waving her hands as if she is holding a wand. He gets up, knees creaking a little more than usual and heads into the kitchen to start making dinner. He steps back to the doorway.

“Where would you like to eat?”

Harry could see her answer on her face, smiling hopefully at him and looking to television. Immediately, it’s obvious that she does not normally eat dinner while watching telly. But she had caught the movie near the start and Harry didn’t want to pull her away at the very end.

“Your mum doesn’t usually let you eat while watching telly?”

She shakes her head no.

“Hm, well we better not tell her,” Harry winks at her and goes back into the kitchen. He sets about cutting potatoes for chips, putting a thin layer of oil in the pan to bake them in the oven. He sets an egg timer, setting it beside the oven and returns to the doorway. Daisy is oblivious to him, enthralled by the magical world and adventures. The plot seems a little intense, and Harry wonders whether he misjudged the film as being appropriate for children. Though her eyes are wide, she doesn’t look scared, so he doesn’t interject.

Intermittently, Harry goes back to the kitchen to flip the potato wedges and to start grilling the sandwiches. He heats up a pan and spreads a pad of butter around, toasting the bread briefly before stacking cheese on top. It had been a long while since he had made, or eaten, a grilled cheese. As a child, he had the choice to eat what the adults ate, or not eat at all. But given the fact that her schedule had been disrupted and she was away from home, Harry wasn’t going to try and encourage her to broaden her food options tonight. He had rather been tormented by broccoli and such things as a kid. He did hope that perhaps Eggsy or Michelle were taking that consideration themselves.

After making the first sandwich, he stacks it in the oven while the other finishes. He leaves both in the oven, turning the gas and egg timer off simultaneously. He carries two folding tables and napkins to the sitting room.

“Could you set these places up for us?” Harry asks, gesturing to the tables he unfolded near the sofa. “Choose good spots.”

Daisy nods, willingly putting the lightweight tables into place, directly side by side. She carefully lines up the linen napkins along the edge of the trays, her hands lingering on the decorative stitching along the edge of the fabric.

Harry plates the two sandwiches, pausing to ask whether Daisy wanted it cut into rectangles or triangles. He split the chips between their two plates and carries them out.

“Rectangles for you,” he says, laying the plates down. “And triangles for me.” He sits on the sofa beside Daisy and pops a chip into his mouth.

Daisy inspects the food for a moment, the first signs of uncertainty he had seen from her. Mostly he was impressed with her confidence, if not concerned with how willing she was to go with a strange man after school. But he supposed it must be different bread, or cheese, or chips cut a different size that were giving her pause. And even the most socially confident children are bound to have reservations about food. She picks up a chip, unaware of Harry watching her, and takes a small first bite. When it turns out to just be a typical homemade chip - potato, a bit of oil, and salt - she takes a few more bites before starting in on the sandwich.

Harry cut his attention between the movie and watching Daisy. He’s willing to allow her to watch telly during dinner, he is not willing to have his couch reupholstered after being covered in greasy fingerprints. Although she left her napkin on the table top, she was very diligent about wiping her hands and keeping them away from the couch cushions.

As they finish eating, Harry quite a bit sooner than Daisy, the movie comes to its end. As the boy Harry Potter stands off against the villain, Daisy leans in closer to Harry as she watches. He hooks his arm around the back of the sofa - not touching her, but still in her space. Harry is surprised to feel an odd sense of comfort in a child trusting and finding safety in him.

The movie ends and all turns out well and Daisy relaxes from where she had been nervously watching.

“Did you enjoy the film?” Harry asks. Daisy hands him the remote and he turns the television off. All things considered, he could commend Michelle and Eggsy for having Daisy well-trained to her routine.

She nods enthusiastically as she considered the movie. “Do you think that I could go to Hogwarts?”

“I think it may be fictional,” Harry says, stopping as he sees her crestfallen expression. “It is a real castle, though. In Scotland.”

“Scotland?” Daisy repeats, in wonder again already.

He nods. “Perhaps they give tours, on occasion. Many of the great castles do.”

“Can we go? Please? Mr. Harry, please?”

“Certainly not tonight,” Harry answers. It was well past six as it was. “But perhaps I can ask Eggsy about some other time.”

“You’d go with us too, yeah?” she asks.

“Perhaps.” he allows. He doesn’t want to agree to further involvement in her life - connection with one Kingsman is dangerous enough - but he also doesn’t want to let her down. “I can be very busy at work sometimes.”

“So is Eggsy,” she says sadly. She swings her legs, her feet nowhere close to touching the floor. “Mum says his work is very important.”

“It is,” Harry agrees. They sit in quiet for a moment, then Harry stands up. “Would you like to help me with the washing up? I could very much use the help of a dish dryer.”

“Okay,” Daisy replies, in the dutiful way a child replies to requests that are not questions. Harry carries the plates into the kitchen.

“Go ahead and pull up a chair to stand on,” Harry says, and Daisy excitedly climbs up. From her smile he can gather that standing on chairs is not an activity she usually gets to participate in. He hands her a dish towel and starts running the hot water.

They work together and clean the few dishes that had been used. Daisy takes great pride in inspecting the washed dishes before drying them, and Harry watches amusedly as she hands back a dinner plate to be rewashed.

“Have I done it an alright job now?” he asks, passing it back.

“Yes, excellent, well done,” Daisy says, and Harry stifles a laugh. She sounds like a primary school teacher.

“Thank you,” he says, offering her a hand to steady herself as she jumps off the chair. He pulls it back over to the table. He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the messages.

_ On way there. 40 mins. _

The message had been sent ten minutes ago.

_ Door will be open. _

“Your brother is on the way,” he tells Daisy. He smiles as she lights up. “Go ahead and pack up your bag and things so you’re ready when he gets here.”

Daisy happily starts collecting her crayons and pencils, zipping them into her small purple pencil pouch. Then the workbook and Angelina Ballerina book follow into the bag.

Harry pulls down a sheet of waxed paper and quickly makes a cold sandwich, folding the paper around the slices of bread and placing it in the fridge. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Daisy drift into the hallway. Instantly he takes stock of every weapon hidden on the first floor and along the stair well, but he doesn’t hear her walk further than the entryway.

He walks out of the kitchen to see her craning her neck to look up at his framed butterflies.

“Are those real?” she asks.

“They are.”

Daisy looks at them in wonder, her mouth moving voicelessly to breathe “wow”. “They’re beautiful.”

Harry steps away to unlock the front door and turn on the overhead hall light.

“Here,” Harry says, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around her. She grabs his neck as he lifts her up, standing again. He steps in close so she can look through the glass frames.

She reaches out with the hand that isn’t wrapped around his neck and touches the glass, stroking above the butterfly’s wings. She is particularly drawn to a large, bright orange and red species.

“That is a dryas iulia,” he says. The facts about the insect are ready in his mind even though he had not used them in years. “Most commonly called the Julia or flambeau butterfly.”

“What is flambeau?” she doesn’t pronounce the word correctly.

“A type of torch. Because it is orange or red, like a flame,” Harry answers. “They’re from Brazil, but can be found in the Southern United States as well.”

“Did you get it from Brazil?” she asks.

“I did,” Harry answers. “I went to study butterflies while I was in school.”

“You studied butterflies?” Daisy gasps, astounded that such things were even possible. Harry had never encountered someone so impressed by his choice in studies. Generally, they had gotten him laughed at.

“And what’s that one?” she asks, pointing at a great large purple one.

“The apatura iris, or Purple Emperor,” Harry answers, as the door clicks open and Eggsy steps in.

“Is it the king of butterflies?” Daisy asks before she becomes aware of Harry’s shift in attention.

“No, it is not. I imagine they don’t have kings,” Harry answers, distracted and aware of Eggsy watching. Daisy looks towards where Harry is looking and shrieks.

“Eggsy!” 

Harry set her down, nearly dropping her to the floor as she lunges at her brother. Eggsy catches her up, spinning her once, and sets her back down.

“Ello, love,” he laughs, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Did you have a good evening.”

“Yes, we watched Harry Potter and - Eggsy - Mr. Harry knows about butterflies. Look it - they’re real,” she points excitedly at the frames on the wall.

Eggsy looks at Harry, a bit bewildered. “Well that sounds nice. Let’s get you home to bed, alright? Run up to the restroom and then we’ll go, okay?” 

Daisy nods, taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor bathroom. Harry steps into the kitchen, Eggsy drifting behind. He takes the sandwich out of the fridge and hands it off.

“I imagine you did not stop to eat, so I made you this.”

Eggsy blinks, accepting it. “Thanks. And, Harry -”

“Tomorrow, we’ll talk about how Daisy should not be willing to leave school with a stranger, and her mother should not be okay with it either, and the school should take more precautions in who they release students to. That woman hardly looked at me.”

“Harry -”

“Even if she has to be moved to a private school that can make those accommodations. Eggsy, she is your weakness. And Kingsman’s as well. You would not have passed the trials if it was your sister tied to those rails. You must guard her better, for all our sake.”

“Harry, I know. I -”

“And she wants to take ballet lessons. A reputable school is a necessity, and fortunately, the Royal Ballet is close.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Goodness, no. Why would I be mad?”

“You just played babysitter for an evening.”

“It was an honor,” Harry answers. His eyes flick as he first hears then sees Daisy coming back into the hallway. “Get you two home, then we’ll talk more tomorrow. And I believe I owe your sister a trip to a Scottish castle that we will need to arrange.”

Harry winks at Daisy as he shuffles Eggsy towards the door.

Eggsy pulls Daisy’s small backpack over one shoulder and holds out her sweater for her to bundle up. He stands for a moment, briefly dumbstruck. “Thanks, again, Harry. I owe you.”

“Good night, Eggsy. Good night, Miss Daisy.”

Daisy steps forward to give him a hug which he knelt down to receive. Standing again, he waves and closes the door on the two siblings leaving, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a part two/ sequel of sorts in the future. But mostly this is meant to stand alone.


End file.
